The other day a classmate brought up the topic of Mu Alpha Theta, a high school honor society for math wizards, which was organized by legendary high school mathematics teacher Viola Halvorson. I always carefully avoided mathematics and numbers and Viola, so this organization has never given me any trouble.
The classmate had jubilantly spammed a local editorial from the 1960s, written by his father, lauding the high school math aces and decrying the fact that the wunderkinds just never get the adulation and praise of the basketball or football jock.
Another gutsy position taken by the Alexandria EchoPress.
Yesterday I spoke with another classmate. I had just learned that this dear friend has been stricken with a version of Parkinson's. We discussed the things that he can do and what he can't do anymore, and I inquired if he could still figure math as before. He was an absolute whiz in high school. "No," my friend responded ruefully. "I can't do any numbers at all."
"Gee," said I, quite crassly, with the editorial still in mind, "Guess you'll have to return Viola's Mu Alpha Theta pin."
His long-term memory is sharp and the dark, tasteless remark drew a nostalgic snort.
This morning, my brother Steve called so I brought up Steve's membership in Mu Alpha Theta. He remembered it well, but with an odd sting.
For some reason, Steve got the family math gene, but apparently not all of it.
EVERY YEAR Vi Halvorson scheduled her voluntary math test to seek out and identify the greatest of all the math geniuses at Jefferson High School. (When she gave it, I believe I was shooting baskets.) During his senior year, Steve sat down with 1000 other local math mavens to vie for the prestigious JHS math mantle. Eventually, Steve was thrilled to be notified that of the thousand students competing, he ranked the third best in all of JHS mathdom. Jimmy Mahlberg was No. 2.And who was crowned the best of all the best math brainiacs at Jefferson High School that year? Who pushed Steve down one more rung from the ladder top?
Yes, our family big boy learned, with an odd mixture of pride and chagrin, the new Jefferson High School mathematics champion was none other than -- his little brother, Virgil.
Go figure.
Top photo: Mu Alpha Theta alumnae. Built for speed, agility, math. Below: Photo taken later in life, as Virgil, right, beats his older brother in a round of golf, again.
